Hecate Potter and the Philospher's Stone
by FallenNiji
Summary: Hecate Potter and her first year at Hogwarts. FULL SUMM. INSIDE SkyArco!Sarcastic!Sadistic!Slytherin!Smart!Rebelious!Fem!Harry, Slytherin!Hermione!, Language, Dumbles!Molly and Ron!Bashing! and more!
1. Summary

Hecate Iris Carmenta Potter was quite abnormal, anyone could see that. With unearthly beauty, a liking to necromancy and witchcraft/magic, along with wielding the power of flames, they know that. So when she gets a letter to atten a school for witches and wizards, she isn't all that surprised. But she is surprised that she finds her guardians there and makes a Famiglia! Join her and her friends on the journey of her first year.

SkyArco!Sarcastic!Sadistic!Slytherin!Smart!Rebelious!Pyro!Fem!Harry, Slytherin!Hermione!, Language, Dumbles!Molly and Ron!Bashing! and more!

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 **Yeah I'm supposed to be working on my other stories aren't I? Sorry TT-TT**


	2. The Girl Who Lived is a Pyromaniac

**Hope You Enjoy!**

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 **The Girl Who Lived is a Pyromaniac**

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Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small daughter, too, but they had never even seen her. This girl was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive - no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-"

"- yes, their daughter, Hecate-"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a daughter called Hecate. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his niece was called Hecate. He'd never even seen the girl. It might have been Helena. Or Harriet. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... you know... her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their daughter - she'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't she?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's her name again? Helena, isn't it?"

"Hecate. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawned and turned over - it couldn't affect them...

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, I've celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone-"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - dead."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know... " he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's daughter, Hecate. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Hecate Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's - it's true ?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Hecate survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Hecate to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now."

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here ?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Hecate Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand her! She'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Hecate Potter day in the future - there will be books written about her - every child in our world will know her name!"

"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any girl's head. Famous before she can walk and talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! Can you see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until she's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Hecate underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing her."

"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got her, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of silky red hair over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where - ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "She'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give her here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Hecate in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to her, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over the last Potter and gave her what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Hecate off ter live with Muggles-"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Hecate gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside her blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Hecate...This is for the greater good." he murmured, already knowing how her life will be like. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone. What he didn't notice was mature emerald green eyes staring at him with maturity. Nor did he notice a small orange flame slowly destroying the soul piece inside of the scar.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Hecate Potter rolled over inside her blankets without injuring herself or falling out. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Dudley... She couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Hecate Potter - the girl who lived!"

Only remembering a beautiful red haired woman with the brightest emerald green eyes with a voice so beautiful and angelic singing her to sleep every night. And beautiful rainbow coloured flames. That was the moment she became a pyromaniac. When she saw the flames she was entranced, and so started her obsession with fire.

She would always remember the woman, her mother Lily Potter, singing her a song.

 _"Flames to dust_

 _Lovers to friends_

 _Why do all good things come to an end_

 _Flames to dust_

 _Lovers to friends_

 _Why do all good things come to an end_

 _come to an end come to an_

 _Why do all good things come to end?_

 _come to an end come to an_

 _Why do all good things come to an end?"_

 **~o~o~o~**

 **How was it? Was it good? Bad?**


	3. Sky Arcobaleno and Giglio Nero

**Hope you enjoy! ^_^**

 **Sky Arcobaleno and New Friends**

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It's been 6 years since Hecate Iris Carmenta Potter, resident Girl Who Lived, was left with her mother's sister's family, the Dursleys. Young Hecate is now 7 years old and quite beautiful for someone her age.

And let me tell you, her life was not a walk in the park. The young witch was forced to cook, clean, wash the dishes and any chore you can think of at a young age, and if they were not finished by the time Vernon, her uncle, came home...she would get a beating/whipping and get locked in the cupboard under the stairs for a couple of days without food or water before she was let out after a couple of days. She grew up to be a sneaky, sly, cunning, sarcastic and quiet young her, but she was also strangely kind, caring and accepting. But if you anger her...well, like they say; 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' but with Hecate it's more like 'Hell hath no fury like a goddess angered.'

After all, Hecate, Iris and Carmenta are names of goddesses. Hecate was variously associated with crossroads, entrance-ways, dogs, light, the moon, magic, witchcraft, knowledge of herbs and poisonous plants, ghosts, necromancy, and sorcery. In the post-Christian writings of the Chaldean Oracles (2nd–3rd century CE) she was regarded with (some) rulership over earth, sea and sky, as well as a more universal role as Saviour (Soteira), Mother of Angels and the Cosmic World Soul. She was one of the main deities worshiped in Athenian households as a protective goddess and one who bestowed prosperity and daily blessings on the family.

Hecate may have originated among the Carians of Anatolia, where variants of her name are found as names given to children. Hecate was also worshipped in the ancient city of Colchis. William Berg observes, "Since children are not called after spooks, it is safe to assume that Carian theophoric names involving hekat-refer to a major deity free from the dark and unsavoury ties to the underworld and to witchcraft associated with the Hecate of classical Athens."[7] She also closely parallels the Roman goddess Trivia, with whom she was identified in Rome.

Iris is the personification of the rainbow and messenger of the gods. She is also known as one of the goddesses of the sea and the sky. Iris links the gods to humanity. She travels with the speed of wind from one end of the world to the other, and into the depths of the sea and the underworld.

And Carmenta is an ancient Italian goddess of prophecy, who protected women in child-birth. In Rome she had a priest attached to her, the flamen Carmentalis,and a shrine near the gate under the Capitol, named after her the porta Carmentalis. On this spot the Roman matrons celebrated in her honour the festival of the Carmentalia, the flamen and pontifex assisting. Two Carmentes, called Porrima or Antevorta, and Postvorta, were worshipped as her sisters and attendants. These names were sometimes explained with reference to childbirth, sometimes as indicating the power of the goddess of fate to look into the fast and future. In the legend of the foundation of Rome Carmenta appears as the prophetic mother, or wife, of the Arcadian stranger Evander.(Quoted from the Wikipedia)

What can I say? Since Hecate was young she was forced to do all kind of labour and was, and still is, a victim of abuse and neglect. The only time and place she can escape from her life is when she's either at the library, forest or park. But she mostly spent time in the library, reading many books on magic, mythology, and anything. She was much like Matilda from a book she read. This also caused her to become socially awkward, shy and a smart girl.

It was exactly on July 31st 1987, her 7th birthday, she was beaten as a present and kicked out with only "Come back in a week" as a parting gift. As she limped towards the forest, a place she knew all to well and even has a small secret base/hideout, she let a small sob escape from her lips.

 _'Why? Why! Why do they hate me so much? What did I do?'_ She mentally asked herself when she reached her hideout. Her hideout was a small and old tree house that was abandoned and was built near a beautiful and mystifying lake, which by the was called Blue Sky Lake, by the sign.

Once she climbed the tree and sat on an old orange blanket, the only thing she has from her parents, with the initials 'H.I.C.P.B.' sewn on it in sky blue coloured elegant cursive letters, she looked at her wounds and let another sob escape her throat, before she sighed as yellow flames covered her wounds and started healing them.

You see, Hecate has a little secret. She's a pyromaniac. Actually, she can control fire, but not just any fire, rainbow coloured fire, and they all have special abilities. But she'd rather not reveal it now, maybe someday, but not now. After healing, Hecate brought out her hand and the flames appeared. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Purple and even Black flames! They sometimes remind her of the weathers. The Orange one reminds her of the Sky that draws in and accepts everyone. But is also protected. The Red flames remind her of a Storm, it destroys everything in its path, but it's also very loyal to its Sky. The Yellow flames remind her of the bright Sun, caring for the injured, but if angered it burns. Green flames remind her of Lightning, but she's not sure why, maybe it's because they have the appearance of lightning? Maybe. Blue flames remind her of the soothing Rain that washes away all the pain she feel. Indigo flames remind her of Mist, sneaky and deceiving everyone left in its wake. Purple flames rind her of Clouds, aloof and keeping away from others, yet still protects everyone, mainly the Sky. And finally, the Black flames remind her of the Night, bitter and cruel but also protective of the Sky.

She was interrupted by two gasps, and as they flames disappeared she spun around and saw three girls, a woman and a man. The first girl had shoulder length spiky, but straight, brown hair with bangs nearly covering her teal blue eyes and pale skin, and was also quite tall, maybe she was my age or a little older, and was wearing a plain black suit, but instead of the pants, she had a skirt, and wore an Indigo dress shirt. The other girl had long messy light pink hair that reached her back with blue eyes, a small button nose and she was also probably my age and was a little shorter then the first girl, half a head shorter probably, and was wearing the same thing but with a yellow dress shirt. The third and final girl was probably the youngest and the shortest out of them.

She wore a big, white, mushroom-shaped hat with half of the emblem of something on it and a large black bar at the sides, with two orange stripes flanking it. Her clothing also consists of a long coat with the same emblem at the bottom right and left sides. Underneath, she wore a pant-skirt and a short blouse that reveals her stomach. She has blue eyes and her hair is short in front, but longer at the back and is a dark teal colour. And has the same strange emblem under her left eye. The woman, who I assume is the mother of the last girl, looks remarkably like her, but with a few differences. She had shoulder length hair with parts of it on both sides of her head braided up and tied at the back and sharp blue eyes the same shade as her daughter's. She's wearing a long sleeved red shirt with a black necktie, black skirt and black high man has blond hair that appears to be gelled back and greyish eyes, and he dons a black suit.

Momentarily, they were staring at a small, to skinny and unhealthy pale red haired, green eyes little girl who looks surprisingly like Aria's little sister, Lily Potter(Evans by Adoption), and niece and goddaughter, Hecate Potter. But what also surprised them and her that she had all seven flames of the Sky and also the Vendice's flame!

Hecate looked at them terrified. They saw her with her fire, now they're going to tell the Dursleys and she's gonna get a beating! And maybe...they'll even take away her flames! She was cut off from her hysterics by the woman who's slowly approaching her with a kind, sad smile. When she tried to touch her she flinched and cringed away.

"Hello," the woman began softly "my name's Aria, I'm 28. That's my daughter, Yuni. She's six." She pointed towards her daughter, the youngest "That's Gamma, my right hand man, best friend, Yuni's father, and my husband." He smiled at her and waved. "Those two are Sakura Momo, or you would say Momo Sakura, age 7," the pinkette waved shyly before hiding herself behind the taller one "and that's Kirisaki Haruka, or Haruka Kirisaki, and she's also 7. What's your name?" Hecate cowered and stayed silent, Aria smiled sadly. She and Gamma(Haruka probably too) could see that someone abuses her daily.

She moved closer, still having that gentle smile on her face. "Here, let me tell you a secret. If I tell you my secret and tell you what those flames are, will you tell me your name?" The young witch nodded hesitantly after a pause making the adults smile.

Aria held up a hand and orange flames lit up, shocking Hecate. 'S-She's like me?' She asked herself. "Not only me, but they too. C'mon guys, show her yours too." She was even more shocked when the same orange flame appeared on Yuni's hand, a green flame on Gamma's, yellow on Momo's and indigo on Haruka's.

"Hecate Potter." The words left her mouth before she could even think. She covered her mouth with wide eyes.

Aria took a deep breath, this is her niece and goddaughter. What is she doing in such a state? Horrible baggy clothes...

"Hecate, honey, was you mother's name Lily?" Hecate found herself nodding to the kind woman's question, and a quick flash of relief, sadness and remembrance was shown in her eyes as she smiled and tears fell from her eyes, worrying the young Potter.

"M-Miss? Miss Aria are you alright? Did I do something? Oh no! What did I do? Did I-" she was cut off by Aria hugging her tightly and she saw Miss Sakura, Miss Kirisaki, Miss Yuni and Mr. Gamma cheering silently while doing a strange dance.

"Hecate, I-I...I'm you aunt." She said after a couple minutes of hugging the girl, shocking Hecate. "B-But Miss Aria...my aunt is Petunia Dursley." Aria scowled at the woman's name. "There's no way in hell that that horrible woman is related to me or Lily, and there's no possibility she's related to Lady Sepira nor my mother. Lily was kidnapped when she was young and adopted by the Evans Family, we kept in touch, but six years ago she mysteriously stopped sending letters. And Hecate, sweety, I want you to know that your parents, James and Lily, were amazing people. And I'm also your godmother." She smiled, yet again, at the wide eyes child.

"Petunia told me that they were horrible alcoholics and drug addicts, and they dies in a freak accident. Leaving me with them." Yeah, the Dursleys are dead. Gamma flinched, he doesn't even want to know how they'll die, but he knows it will be painful. Momo, Haruka and Yuni didn't know what's going on, but they know that this Petunia and her family are in _big_ trouble.

"They weren't alcoholics nor were they drug addicts. And they were...I don't know how they died, but I can guess." Aria then smiled and put her on her lap "Now, you want to know more about the flame right?" The child in her lap nodded.

"The flames are known as the Dying Will Flames of the Sky are seven different colored Flames that are named after the seven phenomena in the sky: the Sky itself, Storm, Rain, Sun, Lightning, Cloud, and Mist. These seven attributes of the Sky Dying Will Flames are named after the titles of the Vongola Boss and his Guardians. Now, while they are all referred as "Flames", some attributes have properties more similar to other natural elements, such as water and electricity.

"While there are flames as the Dying Will Flames of the Earth and the special flames such as Snow flames, Wrath Flames that only a man named Xanxus has and Night flame users are the Vindice, a group that keeps the mafia laws. But before we start, everyone here is in the mafia." She received and unamused look in response making her smile.

"Among all the seven attributes, Sky Flames, the orange ones, possesses the greatest propulsion power, specially those of high purity. Described as having many mysteries, its special trait, Harmony, represents a state without contradiction nor flaws in which the balance of the whole is maintained. Furthermore, two different "types" of Sky Flames have been presented. One is the normal, "soft" Flame that has great stability. The other is the high purity, "hard" Flame that is more volatile but packs more power. Bearers of the Sky attribute are said to be exceptionally rare and most of the known ones share the common trait of possessing great insight.

""Soft" Flames has a core that is pale orange in color, but they gradually become of a deeper shade in the area closer its edges. Meanwhile, the core of "hard" Flames are of a very dark, almost reddish shade of orange and the parts closer to its edges are colored by varying tones of orange. Me and Yuni have Sky flames." As Aria went on explaining the other attributes she shook her head in disbelief at all this. First of all her day started out horrible, now it just keeps getting better and better!

"Did you get all that?" She blinked and nodded at her aunt "Now, I've decided to take you away from Petunia and her family. Would you like that?" Hecate nodded her head eagerly. She couldn't wait! And by so far, this has been the best day of her life!

Then, Hecate blinked. "Um...Miss-Aunt...Can I call you aunt Aria?" Aria nodded "Can you tell me what this is?" She took out a brilliant orange pacifier that was glowing softly. Gamma and Aria choked.

 _'Hecate is the Sky Arcobaleno!'_

This is gonna be a long night. And when they were done explaining, Hecate took it quite well, if swearing to kill Checkerface was "went well".

 _"Why are there so many songs about rainbows_

 _And what's on the other side_

 _Rainbows are visions_

 _But only illusions_

 _And rainbows have nothing to hide_

 _So we've been told_

 _And some choose to believe it_

 _I know they're wrong, wait and see"_

* * *

 **Okay, next chapter is when Hecate gets her Hogwarts letter, so a 5 year timeskip. Let me tell you now that Momo and Haruka are gonna go too, but since Yuni is a year younger than them she's gonna start when the girls are in their 2nd year.**

 **Now, don't be surprised if the Arcobaleno don't know about Hecate being their Sky, Aria had a feeling that if they stuck to her, Hecate might feel trapped with all these overprotective guardians, so she, they, didn't tell the rest.**

 **So right about when Hogwarts starts the KHR series will start too. And about the test during the Future arc? Aria will take her place as the acting Sky Arcobaleno. And she will tell the other Arco just that. She's young and at school. So they'll probably think that it's Yuni.**

 **Summer break between First a Second year will be when the Arcobaleno battles will take place. But in the future arc, Hecate mysteriously died sometime before it started making Yuni the new Sky Arcobaleno. Just to let you know, Aria took Hecate from the Dursleys.**

 **The reason why she has 8 flames is because the Dursleys but also inheritance. Lily had Sky and Storm flames while James had Mist and Cloud flames, while Sirius and Remus blood adopted her, and Sirius had Mist and Lightning and Remus had Sun and Rain. She gained the Night flames at the Dursleys 'cause you have to have immense hate towards them and I think that's how you get the Night flames. And I have a theory people get their flames from their parents, sometimes. But that's what I think, you might think the opposite.**

 **If I'm forgetting something please tell me.**

 **Reviews:**

 **Teyranas - It started out as a typo but I decided later that half of them would think that she's a girl but the other half would think she's a boy. And I changed it to girl.**

 **Cormin12 - I fixed it**

 **harysowl - Yeah it kind of is -_- But, don't worry. It will get better as I write.**

 **Thanks for all the reviews, keep 'em commin', it makes me happy! ^_^**

 **Sorry for the short chappy! TT-TT**

 **Song is 'The Rainbow Connection'**


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